


One Day He Won't Be

by sparkandwolf (thatnerdemryn)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Fear, Feelings Realization, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Derek, Season 3 coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatnerdemryn/pseuds/sparkandwolf
Summary: He was sick and tired of seeing Stiles hurt. He had picked up after Scott’s recklessness, Lydia’s calls of the dead, and Chris’ too eager attacks more times than he would have ever liked. And Stiles - fragile,humanStiles - seemed to always find his way to the middle. Stiles wouldn’t even let Derek use his ‘werewolf healing powers’ on him no matter how many times Derek advised him that wasn’t an actual ability he had.(Derek left off the part where he would do anything in his power to make sure Stiles was never hurt again when he responded.)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 28
Kudos: 335





	One Day He Won't Be

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively titled; one day he won't be, oNe dAy hE wOn't bE, or onE daY hE won'T bE 
> 
> Because my friends are the _worst_. 
> 
> This was written for the prompt: Things you said when you thought I was asleep, sent by [mydarkdarling](https://mydarkdarling.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!

Derek laid Stiles’ still body in the center of his bed, letting his weak neck fall onto the pillow as his arms spread across the sheets. Stiles looked beautiful, as he always did, even with the darkening bruise next to his mouth and the bandaged claw marks on his shoulders. It took almost everything in Derek to resist running his thumb over the discoloration if only to finally feel the softness he had longed after for so long. 

He shook his head to rid himself of the thought and reached for the washcloth resting in a bowl full of warm, soapy water beside the bed. It was a wooden bowl with a fox carved into the side that Stiles had bought him a few months prior. Stiles had said it was to remind Derek that every wolf had a fox and Derek still wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Inside of the container, Derek had stored everything he could possibly need to dress a human’s inevitable injuries. It was practically his  _ Stiles Emergency Kit _ and he hated every time he had to use it. 

It was more often than not as of late that Derek was filling the bowl with disinfectant and holding bandages and cloths underneath his arm while his teeth bore down on plastic-wrapped painkillers. He was sick and tired of seeing Stiles hurt. He had picked up after Scott’s recklessness, Lydia’s calls of the dead, and Chris’ too eager attacks more times than he would have ever liked. And Stiles - fragile,  _ human _ Stiles - seemed to always find his way to the middle. Stiles wouldn’t even let Derek use his ‘werewolf healing powers’ on him no matter how many times Derek advised him that wasn’t an actual ability he had. 

(Derek left off the part where he would do anything in his power to make sure Stiles was never hurt again when he responded.) 

Stiles looked peaceful any time Derek broke out the first aid kit, as if happy he had someone to take care of him. If it made Derek’s heart swell, no one had to know. Stiles would sit patiently, making lewd comments about their proximity or complimenting Derek’s ability to remain calm around the sight of blood. 

_ “It took me at  _ least _ four ER visits to stop fainting at the sight of my own blood, _ ” Stiles had said as if it was entirely in the norm for a child to visit the hospital that many times. Derek had always noted as such but Stiles would brush him off with a simple, “ _ I was Mischief incarnate, Sourwolf, what can I say?” _

(Derek started calling him Mischief after that and Stiles never told him to stop.) 

He hadn’t looked as peaceful at that moment and it took everything Derek had in him to stop his body from trembling. He grabbed the cloth with the steadiest hand he could and wiped away the blood drying on his temple and on his cheek. He was afraid to scrub too hard in fear of waking the fatigued boy or hurting him when Stiles couldn’t even begin to make a sarcastic remark about liking it rough. Derek squeezed his eyes shut as he rested a hand on Stiles’ neck and pulled as much of the pain away from him as he could. Even when it became too much for Derek to bear, he had known there was more buried underneath judging by the discomfort braided into Stiles’ usually soft features. 

“Why does this keep happening?” Derek mumbled as he tossed the blood-ridden rag into the bowl a bit harsher than he intended. It slid across the tabletop, stopping just on the edge as if hoping not to wake Stiles either. 

Stiles groaned in his sleep and even in a state of unconsciousness, it was as if he was hiding the hurt that must have been enveloping his entire body. Derek had seen it happen and was powerless to stop it. As if catapulted into a vivid nightmare, Derek saw the rogue wolf’s claws embedded in Stiles’ shoulder, his other hand punching Stiles’ jaw with the loudest crack Derek had ever heard. It reverberated through the loft and straight through Derek’s spine like lightning. 

It was only when the wolf was sure Stiles couldn’t fight back any longer that he tossed Stiles’ limp body aside without a care in the world - as if he wasn’t throwing Derek’s entire reason for living away like garbage. Stiles slammed into the wall, only Peter’s quick reactions slowing him enough that it didn’t kill him. Derek made a mental note to thank Peter and then decided to cross it off of his list. Peter had done more damage to Stiles than most so it was his turn to save the boy’s life, Derek thought bitterly. 

The door opening snapped him back into reality. He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, him gazing down at Stiles as if he was the most precious entity in the universe, but he was sure it was an inappropriate amount judging by the sympathetic look he received from Isaac. 

“Is he--” Derek’s glare must have given away his answer to whatever ridiculous question Isaac was about to ask and the beta nodded and sighed as he leaned against the doorway. “Scott was asking,” Isaac responded as if it made any difference. Scott was the reason Stiles was in that position - half-dead and unconscious on Derek’s bed - so he hadn’t deserved to know if Stiles was  _ okay.  _

“You can tell Scott that--” Derek sucked in a breath as Stiles winced beside him, gasping as if the pain was finally too much as he reached out toward Derek. He gripped Derek’s shirt, tugging him closer as his eyes squeezed shut, only open enough for tears to slip through. Derek shushed him softly and stroked a delicate hand over Stiles’ head, careful to avoid any of his injuries. 

When he calmed, Isaac whispered, “He’s going to be okay.” The words sounded so sure, Derek almost believed him. He pulled more pain from Stiles’ tense form again before he glanced over at Isaac and shook his head. 

“One day he won’t be,” Derek spat. He knew it was harsh and that Isaac didn’t deserve to have his anger taken out on him as he was so used to, but he couldn’t help himself. All he cared about was that once again, Stiles was broken, and one day Derek might not be able to fix him. 

Isaac left quickly after as if he realized that nothing he could say would ease the sting in Derek’s heart or change the sequence of the night’s events so that Stiles made it out of the loft uninjured. Derek would apologize to him later when he was sure Stiles  _ was _ going to be okay. 

He considered his words when Stiles finally relaxed under his gentle coaxing.  _ One day he won’t be _ . They repeated like a mantra in his head, a cacophony of Derek’s worst fears and anxieties circling around his mind until there was nothing there but terror. 

Stiles once asked him what his worst fear was. Stiles said that his was losing his family to the crazy life Derek had always felt responsible for pulling Stiles into. Stiles had tried for so long to keep his dad away from the supernatural world they lived in and it had eventually been too much to hide. Derek would never tell Stiles how much relief he had sensed once the Sheriff was let into it all, though.

It was obvious to Stiles that wasn’t a fear Derek could have anymore and the boy had never been one to deny the obvious. Derek couldn’t help but laugh as Stiles stumbled over his words when he asked the question and he appreciated that Stiles smelled of guilt when he finally finished his stuttering. 

Derek hadn’t thought much about his worst fear before then. It used to be losing his family, but then it happened. All at once and then slowly when Laura was murdered and Peter went insane. Sure, he still had Peter, but they both knew it wasn’t the same. He had always known his fears were entirely encompassed in one word; loss. He had never wanted to lose another person in his life and wasn’t sure if he could bear it if he did. 

But he had lost Boyd and he had lost Erica and he was still whole. He had gained Cora in the mess of it all, but somewhere along the way, he had realized he  _ could _ handle losing her. He had made it through the loss of his entire pack twice and he wasn’t sure he could fear anything else anymore. 

No, that wasn’t quite true. 

He peered down at Stiles’ calm face scraped and covered in bruises and the realization hit him like a goddamn truck. 

“I couldn’t handle losing you.” 

Once the dam was open, it was as if he couldn’t control the words that flooded from his mouth. 

“You were the first person to remind me of my power - the first person to remind me that I was worth anything at  _ all _ . Even when no one else trusted me, you went against the people you fear losing the most to let me in. You showed me that I didn’t have to be--” 

Derek’s breath caught in his throat and he stared down at the unconscious form in front of him. He hadn’t noticed the hot tears on his cheeks until they darkened the material of Stiles’ torn shirt. 

“--I don’t have to be defined by what I went through. You understand me better than my family ever did, better than my pack ever  _ could _ . I can’t handle the fact you’re lying in my bed and even though you’re recovering, my biggest fear is that one day you  _ won’t _ . One day, you won’t be fine. You’ll be broken in a way I can’t fix. You’ll be gone from my life in a way that I will  _ never _ recover from.” 

Derek let out a dark chuckle as his grip tightened in Stiles’ shirt, covering the emotions he rarely let slip. He realized that Stiles had been the only member of his pack to see him cry. He had kept their late-night talks - when Derek would sneak into Stiles’ room just to let himself feel for a moment before leaving with a newfound sense of peace - entirely to himself even if his family or  _ best friend _ questioned him on it. When Boyd was killed, Stiles was by his side, hiding Derek’s vulnerability from anyone who could take advantage of it.

“Somehow you became the only person in the world who knows me inside and out and Stiles-” Derek breathed his name as if it was the most important sound in the world, “-my only fear in this life is losing  _ you _ .” 

The immense relief that washed over Derek as he sobbed into Stiles’ steadily rising and falling chest was almost too much for him to manage. As much as he had tried to tell himself that the reason he had to go through everything his life had thrown at him was so that he could live on fearlessly, he had known it couldn’t possibly be true. No one was fearless in their world - especially in a world where there was so much  _ unknown _ \- and Derek could never have been the exception to that rule. 

But he looked up at Stiles and wished that he could be. He didn’t want to be afraid of losing Stiles because it seemed as though all of his fears always came true. That night was one step closer to him having to find something else to be afraid of after that fear came true and he knew he wouldn’t survive even a day without Stiles in his life. Every time he restocked the wooden bowl was a reminder of the eventuality of him not needing it anymore. Every time he washed his sheets of Stiles’ blood was one step closer to no longer smelling Stiles’ scent littering the air of his bedroom - of every molecule of air he breathed. 

“You wait until I’m unconscious for a confession like that?” A whispered voice strained from above him. Derek shot up, his hands wiping away the tracks of tears that he couldn’t seem to stop from falling. Derek opened his mouth to argue - to somehow backtrack all of the truth he had admitted without his consent - but Stiles stupidly tried to sit up and groaned in discomfort as Derek pushed him back down. 

“I won’t talk if you promise not to move,” Derek pleaded as he cupped Stiles’ warming cheek in his hand. Stiles lifted his arm but before Derek’s glare could deter him, he wrapped his fingers around Derek’s wrist softly and leaned into his touch. 

“I think I deserve a chance to respond, don’t I?” Stiles asked and who was Derek to deny him? “You can sit there and deny everything you just said, but I won’t sit here and accept your lies - and yes, I know that’s what you’re going to do,” Stiles said, still straining to find his voice as he cleared his throat. “You wanna know what my last thought was before that werewolf knocked me unconscious?” Derek didn’t, but he stayed silent anyway. “I thought, ‘shit, who’s gonna tell Derek this isn’t his fault?’” 

“Stiles--”

“No, you don’t get to say all that romantic shit when you think I’m unconscious and not let me get a word in,” Stiles stated, his gaze hot on Derek’s. “You might fear losing me, Derek, but you know what I’m most afraid of?” 

Derek wasn’t going to say anything, but Stiles urged him with that raise of eyebrows that always got Derek talking and he whispered, “What?” 

“I’m afraid that you are never going to believe a single word I’ve said to you in the last few months. I’m afraid that everything I’ve tried to pound into that thick skull of yours has barely made it past the surface and somehow, you’re going to blame yourself for the bad things that are - let’s face it - just inevitable at this point.” 

“They’re not--”

“I’m lying in blood-soaked sheets and I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out from the pain in a few minutes, so  _ don’t you dare _ argue with me.” 

Derek didn’t. He handed a glass of water and the strongest pain killers he could convince Melissa to prescribe to him over to Stiles and held his head up as he swallowed instead. 

“You deserve good in the world, Derek, and from what I’ve been told, I’m pretty damn  _ good. _ So I’m gonna tell you what you’re  _ not _ going to do,” Stiles paused for a beat as if waiting for Derek’s argument, but he was done fighting. “One, you’re not going to leave the second I pass out and instead, you’re going to slide into bed next to me so you stop hunching over like you’re in Notre Dame. Two, you’re not going to blame yourself every time I get hurt and instead, you’re going to figure out how to equip me to handle the next bigger, badder evil we’re faced with.” 

“Anything else?” Derek asked because Stiles could ask him not to breathe and he would make sure his lungs stopped working. 

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered and his breath ghosted across Derek’s face reminding him just how close they were, “you’re not going to kiss me right now.” 

Derek froze and furrowed his eyebrows, hoping his disdain and confusion was clear on his face. Stiles laughed but it sounded broken and Derek suddenly remembered how much pain Stiles was probably in. He cursed to himself as he backed away, but Stiles reached out to him and yelped at the movement. 

“Instead,” Stiles said as he pulled at Derek’s shirt, “instead, you’re going to wait until all I can feel is you. I can’t associate pain with kissing you, Derek, I already associate it with everything else.” Derek nodded and after a brief moment of quiet, he pressed his lips gently to Stiles’ bruised forehead, letting them linger there until a soft sigh left Stiles’ mouth. 

Derek laid down next to Stiles, careful not to rustle him too much as they settled together. He peered over at the boy next to him and felt himself smile for the first time in what felt like hours - it probably was - when Stiles smiled back at him. 

“In case it wasn’t clear, I’m afraid of losing you, too,” Stiles said as his eyes slipped closed. 

* * *

_ “Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them.  _

_ Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.” _

_ ― Rabindranath Tagore _

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to follow my [Sterek Tumblr](https://sparkandwolf.tumblr.com) for updates on my WIP, snippets, and other A+ content. I also have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thatnerdemilyj).
> 
> Kudos make me smile and comments make me weep, so please leave them!


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